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Post by anton on Jan 1, 2016 23:23:59 GMT
"Yeah, I can also barely see." Anton replied back. Besides making him feel even MORE anxious, he started to feel that it was becoming harder to breathe. He checked his oxygen levels which were still decent, but his nerves were starting to get the better of him.
"Calm down Anton, calm down. I can get through this..."
He used his training to calm down somewhat, at the very least it made it easier to breathe again.
In his slow march, Anton tripped and began rolling down. There was a massive crevice that he hadn't seen. The fall was slow and the bouncing disorienting, not so much painful but very exasperating. Then he finally hit some flat ground. "Uuhhh." He was effectively out of view from Archer.
He looked around for the spear as he had to let go of it during the fall. Luckily it landed right next to him. "I'm Uhh... I fell into what looks like a crevice... I'm okay. Don't see any danger..." He got up and proceeded further into it, there weren't any wraiths and thankfully none of the corrupted muck. The further he went along it the narrower it got and eventually he was had to climb up. "I think the crevice was actually a blast from something massive." I guess it made sense that a battle had taken place here if there were Noble Phantasms scattered about.
Then he stumbled upon it. "Fuck yes!" If he was able too, Anton would have sprinted for the sword on the ground. It glowed golden ever so slightly. He picked it up and then everything went down to hell...
The ground began to shake, horribly.
He fell down.
The only thing he could see was the sandy ground, then red dots.
"Aaaaah!"
Anton fell back.
Vagrant Spirits began to pour all around him...
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Post by Ashwatthama on Jan 8, 2016 17:47:21 GMT
If Anton was trying to give Ashwatthama a heart attack, he was doing a very good job. Before he could request a status update as his master plummeted out of his view, the young man reassured Archer that he was alright. However, he was still completely outside of Ashwatthama's vision, which could only make the Archer anxious. Anton exclaimed in joy, which the Archer took to mean he found the second object they were searching for, but could not help but feel uneasy. He advanced toward the coast, placing himself as near the edge as he could without being in direct danger of being touched by the waters of the River. As the Archer neared, he felt an intense rumbling in the ground, and Anton cried out over their connection.
"Master, what is--."
He didn't really get to finish his sentence before spirits came flooding out of the River. Like the previous torrent, only much closer, practically right on top of his Master and close enough that they'd easily notice him. Ashwatthama fired his arrows into the mass, but he hardly seemed to make a dent on the crowd of spirits erupting forth, seeming to spill out without end. Only made worse by the crowd of spirits and shambling corpses that had been following the archer seemed to be freshly invigorated by whatever had just happened, and now advanced in around the Archer.
There was no choice then, he'd have to use a Noble Phantasm.
"Brace yourself Master, I am--."
The universe, not content to let the poor Indian bastard finish a sentence today, seemed to react to his thoughts. The shore beneath him cracked and ruptured, and he barely had time to dive to the side before a geyser of the infested water of the river seemed to surge up out of the ground beneath him, as if intending to engulf him entirely. His left arm still ended up drenched in the substance, burning at his flesh like acid. Archer gasped in pain, harshly amplified by the curse on his body as he struggled to regain his composure. The Gem upon his forehead revealed itself and shined brightly, warding off the spiritual effects of the curses as best as it could, but leaving his arm woefully damaged.
He shook his head, trying to block out the pain. It felt like his arm had been dipped in lava, but unfortunately he had no time to deal with it. Anton was still in danger, and there were still hundreds of enemies around them. With Anton so close to them, Ashwatthama only really had one choice, though he regretted using it so lightly. Even a situation like this was remarkably unworthy of the weapon he was about to release, but he didn't have much of a choice.
Picking his bow up off the ground where it lay after his dive away from the geyser, he aimed upwards. Drawing back the string, an ephemeral arrow seemed to materialize in his hand, shimmering and translucent, as if filled with the imagery of a thousand shining stars within. It was released, high into the sky, far above the river, the bridge, the spirits, and all of the city. It seemed to continue on forever, disappearing into the dark sky.
"O Narayana, break the sky and cleanse the earth."
The sky tore open. A hole, as if the stars itself had shifted aside to clear room for whatever might come through it. And then it came. A rain of weapons, arrows pouring out of the sky like rain out of a thunderstorm. Hundreds of weapons fell in seconds, firing downwards toward the city. Each one with purpose. Each weapon, guided toward it's mark. Spirits scattered in every direction, sensing the danger, but it was for naught. The darts found their homes, each one piercing a foe of Ashwatthama, scattering about the city to destroy every single enemy he was aware of. Had he been omnipotent and able to see all the enemies in the city, the weapon might have cleared the entire city of the undead filth, but there was no way of him to become aware of each and every one of them.
But all those surrounding Anton, those converging upon Ashwatthama himself, and those fluttering out of the river and into the sky, would find a quick and merciless end. It was a weapon of genocide, and while Ashwatthama would have preferred not to use it, his injury left little choice. With Anton so close to the spirits, the Brahmastra would have caught him in the crossfire. The torrent of weapons from the Narayanastra would pass around him as if he had an Umbrella meant to bounce arrows harmlessly to the side.
Slumping down, his back against a nearby building, Ashwatthama resumed contact.
"Master, if you are able I would recommend exiting the River as swiftly as possible. More threats may yet emerge, and I am regretfully not in the best shape to deal with such things."
After all, only the enemies Ashwatthama knew of would be removed. More could still pour forth out of another hole in the River, or advance out of the town. Even know he felt his stomach clench, as if something terrible was advancing around them. This place never seemed to run out of surprises to throw at them, and hurdles for them to overcome. The sooner they left the better, now that their objectives were retrieved, but he was unsure if Anton could ray shift them away within the River; Or if Anton was even still conscious.
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Post by anton on Jan 11, 2016 15:36:22 GMT
"Well this is it."
That was what Anton thought as he saw himself surrounded by Vagrant Spirits. There was no chance in hell that he was able to get out of this one. Not by himself, no Ether Clump lure was gonna work with those numbers. Hell he doubted he'd even get the chance to cast a spell before being swarmed.
Still on the floor as the ground continued to shake and spew out Wraiths, Anton gave up. Even if Archer told him to brace himself, what could he do?
Then it rained death. The dark waters became ablaze in a rain of arrows that purged the foul spirits. He was far too speechless to think on the scene, for a split second he thought he was also done for but the streaks of light did not touch him. He snapped out of his shock and his surrendering of living. He had a chance!
Anton got up, he clentched hard the dammed Noble Phantasms and ran, trodded through the murky waters. He was simply out of breath but he had to get out of the water before the cover of Ashwatthama's Noble Phantasm ran out. Which it did soon enough. Anton had no breath to think of replying, he was focusing all his energy on moving as fast as he could. He had a good start but a number of Vagrant Spirit's emerged after the Noble Phantasm had ceased.
One pounced on him, Anton tried to dodge out of it's way but failed and he tumbled to the ground with the Wraith that hacked at him. The young Magus out of desperation grabbed at it's neck and squeezed, there was no crushing sound or sensation but the Wraith went limp and began to vanish. He got up again, but another Wraith charged at him.
Archer was out of commission so it was out of reflex, and it was the first time in his life that Anton truly was being violent. He was running on adrenaline rather than reason. Anton swung the sword with the all the meager strength he had left, the feeling of the sword cutting through the water and the Wraith was clean and unobstructed. Yet even as he cleaved the robed figure in half, the Wraith had enough unlife in it to take a swing at Anton, it cracked one of the glass openings of the suit before vanishing.
Anton wanted to keep going but he collapsed, the lights went out. "What the..".
Power failure. Shutting down imminent.
"Fuck, fuck... fuck."
Anton quickly raced through his options. He was close to the surface, but he wouldn't make it. Being pulled out by Archer would mean getting his Servant on the water would be suicide. His other alternative was a big gamble...
"Ash... I'm almost to the surface, but I got no power left to make it there..."
Anton took a deep breath, the glass was beginning to crack more. "I can make it but... all the remaining Wraiths will be after me... if you can provide cover... I'd love it."
The Artzen's choice was a foolhardy one, perhaps it was one of desperation. Whatever it was, it was the kind of choice Anton figured his Sister would do. Guess they were related after all. He summoned three more Ether clumps, he jammed one into the cracking window to act as a bonding agent, the second under his breastplate and the third over the wrist computer and he gave them prana. Because the clumps began to resonate with the magical energies of the corrupted water, it provided just enough energy for the last stretch of the run.
But it also meant that any nearby straggler would go after him.
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Post by Ashwatthama on Jan 12, 2016 23:59:31 GMT
Ash had hoped the rest of the mission would go without a hitch. But as with many things in his life, fate conspired it was not to be so. He grunted, shifting as he heard his master exclaim his distress over their connection. Despite his pain, he seriously contemplated simply diving into the water to drag his master the rest of the way if need be. Such an action would probably prove fatal, or worse, but Ash had not come this far to let his Master die so close to the end of their mission. Whatever the cost, it was imperative that Anton survive.
Hearing his next to foolhardy plan, he decided that something so drastic was not required. Yet, anyway.
"...Roger that."
Ash lurched upwards, walking as swiftly and calmly to the edge of the shore as he could. Wincing in agony, he drew his left, burning arm up. The water seemed to sizzle on his skin as he moved, curses rejected by the protection of his Gem, but still burning away at his essence. And the spiritual flesh that made up his form, coincidentally. Which hurt. Alot. Alot more due to his curse. So you can imagine that when I say Archer preferred his arm being dipped in magma to this occasion, that I am not under exaggerating. Fortunately, this arm only needed to hold up the bow, his other would do the hard work.
Unfortunately, that was still quite the excruciating task.
And he didn't have much time to bitch about it either. As Anton put his plan into action, Spirits began to surge up out of the river around him, drawn towards the glowing Master and his Ether. As if his muscles were working automatically, Archer drew an arrow and released it, sending a shockwave of pain through his arm. He grit his teeth, biting down a scream of agony as he repeated the process. His muscles clenched, but he continued to fire, sending arrow after arrow sailing past Anton in a manner reminiscent of when he first entered the River, sailing around him, some by no more than inches, to ward off the oncoming threats.
With each arrow, his arm seemed to tremble more and more, as pain shot through him. It felt like the corrosive muck was constricting his arm now with every attempt to save his master, warping his muscles and fracturing the bones beneath.
Still, he had no choice but to continue to provide all the cover he could, until Anton reached him.
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Post by anton on Jan 23, 2016 15:05:05 GMT
This whole operation had been a nightmare.
From the moment he was sent to a ruined world, to plunge into a cursed riddled river filled with malicious spirits. The last push of the trip wasn't any easier either. Anton wasn't simply exhausted, he felt dizzy, was out of breath, could only fill a void in his stomach and he wasn't sure how his heart was beating so hard and not give him an actual seizure, his vision was blurry and honestly he was only moving by instinct.
Anton could honestly say he was in no condition to remember what he had just done, or how he got out of the river. He was far to taxed, both mentally and physically to see anything beyond the dim lit ground and hear the underwater whistling of Ash's arrows puncturing any wraith that chased after Anton. The young Magus did not look back, he didn't even think of looking back. Doing so was certain death.
Then Anton made it to the surface...
His last action was pulling out the Ether clumps from his wrist computer, his visor and the one underneath his breastplate. He threw them at the depth of the river, falling over the shallow river bed and watching the dark red clouds. A wash of emotions flooded Anton, they were mixed between his natural rationally and the feeling of being alive. But for one precise moment he thought that the ruined sky, the light of ever blazing flames and even the distant howling of monstrosities was beautiful. Then he chastised himself for thinking that...
With a huge deal of struggling Anton got up again, picked up the Noble Phantasms and willed himself to the coast and toward Archer. He dropped the blasted relics again, and removed the helmet. He felt air again, his face was drenched in sweat and he had a beatened up expression, his eyes were glazed and a tear did escape from time to time.
Anton took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He almost felt himself losing consciousness but he managed to pull himself together, despite his body wanting to give out.
The Artzen Magi wasn't an expert healer but he did learn from one of the best. His mother who was a Spiritual Doctor and so he heard an authority in restorative magecraft among mages. So he knew how to perform it and though limited by the Formal Wear, he could treat the most critical damage on Ashwatthama's arm, at least until a proper medical team could treat him back at Chaldea.
Soon enough the smaller burns on Ashwatthama's arm began to vanish, while the bigger ones would stop being as horrible. Anton fell on his back, his Circuits were fine but his stamina was below the ground... at least he didn't pass out.
"Sorry..." Anton apologized with a heaving sigh. "I'll call in Chaldea now... get a purification and healing team ready." Anton opened his eyes and looked back at Archer. A very cracked and faint smile formed on Anton's lips. "Let's get out of this hell hole."
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